My mother-in-law believed things happened in threes.
If two great things happened, she’d look for the third and always seemed to find it. After two unfortunate events, she’d breath a sigh of relief when the third one finally occurred so we could relax. She truly believed in, and spoke often about the significance of the number three.
Shortly after she passed away my son and I went for a walk after dinner. He was struggling to make sense of why his Grandie was taken away so suddenly. I told him about my friend Sandi who lost her father a few years ago. She told me to look for signs. Signs brought her and her family comfort. Sandi told me that her dad sent signs all the time and I shared some of her specific examples with my son.
It had gotten dark and the streetlights had come on. As we cut through a parking lot on our way home, we walked under three lamp posts. As we passed, each one of the three lights flickered and went out. One, two, three in a row.
Was it a sign? Was Grandie looking down on us, listening to our conversation, and this was her way of telling us she was there? I don’t know, but I like to think so.
Do you believe in signs?
